One shot is all it takes
by wolfie1996
Summary: As the great Sherlock Holmes falls, will John Watson ever tell him how he feels?


**Disclaimer: Don't own Sherlock**

**I've decided to try and write some Johnlock angst, I usually hate this stuff, but I made a bet to try and make my friend cry. So this is for you Emily.**

**One shot is all it takes**

"Please don't die." John sobbed into Sherlock's bloody shirt. One of his hands was pressed onto the bullet wound on Sherlock's stomach, the other was on his heart. John felt Sherlock's heartbeat start to slow, and broke into tears. "Please." He choked out, clutching onto the fabric of Sherlock's shirt like it was his lifeline. Sherlock coughed, crimson liquid coming out of his mouth in short bursts. "John." He whispered, weakly gripping onto the back of John's neck. "John." His voice was hoarse, and he struggled to breathe properly. John felt Sherlock's discomfort and promptly jumped back like he'd been electrocuted. Sherlock felt John's warmth leave him and let out a pathetic whimper. John's heart broke at the sound, and he wrapped his warm hands around Sherlock's colder ones.

He could faintly hear ambulance sirens approaching, and breathed a sigh of relief. Then, the worst thing possible happened. Sherlock took a turn for the worst, and hacked up a fountain of blood. John panicked, and applied more pressure to the wound, shouting at Sherlock to try and calm down. But it was impossible, Sherlock's form was vibrating with pain, sobs racking his body. Sherlock knew that he didn't have long left, there was only a slim chance of surviving a shot to the stomach, and Moriarty had made sure that the bullet went through the centre, tearing a hole into his organ.

He reached out his hand and cupped John's cheek, stroking his pale thumb along John's jawline. The sirens were louder now, only a few more minutes and they would arrive, but a lot can happen in a few minutes. John covered the hand on his cheek with one of his own, and looked into Sherlock's stormy eyes. So normally filled with coldness for the idiots in the world, with smugness every time he solved a case, and constantly with an intelligence so high that it could put Einstein's to shame. Now, they were hollow and filled with anguish and despair. Moriarty had finally beaten him, the great Sherlock Holmes had fallen, and this time, he couldn't get back up.

"John...This is it." Pure, unadulterated pain filled John's eyes as the emotion flooded every fibre of his being. As hard as he tried, deep down he knew. Sherlock was right. He was always right. This is the day that Sherlock Holmes leaves forever.

"NO! Just hang on Sherlock. For me. Please."

"John..."

"We've still got so much left to do. There are still so many cases to solve, so many more times to annoy Anderson, so many more petty arguments over your eating and sleeping habits that you will always win, but sometimes let me win because your too bored to win. So call me a selfish bastard, but for the love of god, don't leave me Sherlock." Tears were threatening to spill from both men's eyes, but they kept them in. John took a deep breath. "You can't leave, people need you...I need you. Before you, there was nothing, I had no reason to live. But now. Now I do, you keep me alive Sherlock, so how can I live when you aren't there to help?"

John's eyes stared into Sherlock's. Cobalt blue into steel grey. "I was so alone, and I owe you so much." A tear slipped out of John's eye, and Sherlock watched it drip down his face before he rubbed it off. "Shhh John. You don't need me; I'm just a hurtful and spiteful man. You deserve better, you deserve the world."

"But I love you!" John blurted out though tears, and Sherlock smiled the small, genuine smile he only reserved for John. "And I love you John." Sherlock closed his eyes as he took his last breath. John felt Sherlock's heart stop and clutched Sherlock's body close to him as he rocked back and forth.

The paramedics found them a few minutes later. All they could see was the shell of a man who had lost the very reason for his existence. Inhuman noises escaped John mouth as he sat there and let Sherlock's blood stain his clothes. he bent down to Sherlock's ear and whispered. "Please, there's just one more thing, one more thing, one more miracle, Sherlock, for me. Don't. Be. Dead. Would you do that, just for me, just...stop it. Stop this!" There was no answer.

**Reviews are appreciated.**


End file.
